Flocking
by 612
Summary: AU, Fax / After their main guitarist, Dylan, had left them, Flocking finds their replacement in a talented, but sarcastic, guitarist named Fang. Max isn't all too pleased with the decision. "You better not tell anyone about this."


**Title:** Flocking

**Genre:** Romance/Angst/Humour (very dry humour)

**Pairing(s):** Fax, Iggy/OC

**Warnings:** AU, OOC, pairing with an OC, HATE/LOVE, angst and a lot of swearing. Also excessive use and reliance on coffee.

**Summary:** After their main guitarist had left them, Flocking finds their replacement in a talented, but sarcastic, guitarist named Fang. Max isn't all too pleased with the decision. "You better not tell anyone about this."

**Notes at the end.**

* * *

_Prologue_

* * *

The passion that Max sang with was...absolutely exhilarating. Everyone seemed to held their breath as her voice reached a crescendo, only to turn into a whisper a moment later, muttering in a tone that made the audience's hearts wrench. The group behind her were playing their hardest, syncing as one with their leader. It was beautiful.

"We made a promise..."

Max muttered lyrics that had been carved into her brain by the band's songwriter. As she sang her last word, behind her, Dylan strummed a chord that would wrap up their song. The audience went silent, their movements stilled and mouths opened wide, letting the note die off, before erupting into cheers and chants of "_FLOCKING!_"

The band members grinned at each other. They were successful! If they win this competition, that meant that they would have a contract with one of the most prestigious recording companies of the century. They waved at their fans and soon-to-be fans and smiled at them, face shining with sweat from effort and being on stage. When the crowd's excitement finally died down, Max said a few words into the microphone.

"Thank you for being here, supporting and encouraging us!" she exclaimed, "Next time, I hope that we can perform for you guys as real artists. Again, thank you!"

* * *

_Chapter 1_

* * *

"Ugh! I can't believe that guy just ditched us!" Nudge clamoured, slumping down in one of the many loveseats in Max's apartment, a place where members of_ Flocking_ frequented whether they were on business or just hanging around. Everyone was sullen and a bit bitter. Dylan, their lead guitarist, had left the band after a fight with Max. He didn't like where the band was going, according to him, and promptly left after his final words. And it was a little over a year since they became professionals. Real artists.

"I'll make a band that'll rival yours," he had calmly said. "We'll beat you in every sale. We'll be on the top of the chart. Right on top of you."

Max slammed her fist on the top of the marble counter, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, partially out of frustration and partially...from something else. The other members of Flocking had always suspected there was something going on between Max and Dylan, but none of them could confirm it. They didn't confront the couple about it either. However, after seeing Max's reaction toward Dylan's leave, they couldn't help but to wonder.

Angel snuck a glance at Max, silently pondering on something. Iggy only acted like he was bummed out, but then, he wasn't all that close to Dylan. Nobody was, in fact, besides Max. Nudge frowned, uncomfortable with the quietness of the apartment. They were usually loud, joking around about the next performance or song they would write. The only comfort they had right now was that they weren't on a tour.

"Well, since that bastard's on, we'll just have to find someone else," Nudge said, putting her arms behind her head. "Anyone have a guy in mind?"

"Well...we can ask Ella," Iggy suggested. His ex was, surprisingly, on good terms with him. She worked in a music store, so she would meet with musicians quite often. "She might have someone in mind."

Angel shook her head, eyebrows scrunched together at Iggy's suggestion. "No. Her store's for hobbyists, not professionals." Her hand pushed her bangs back as she sighed. She stared at Max for a few moments.

"I have someone in mind," she said. "But I don't know if he is willing to take up the job."

Nudge's head rose up in attention. "Really? Who!" she demanded, rather than ask.

"Well—"

Max abruptly stood up, pushing herself up with her hands, and wiped the tears from her eyes. She looked determined, angry even. "I'm going out," she declared, grabbing her jacket before stomping out of her apartment, seething, only to bump into Avrie, Flocking's songwriter.

"Woah, hey Max," she greeted cheerfully, but only received a glare from the vocalist. She froze up, watching Max leave, and turned toward her friends inside the apartment. "Geez, what's her problem?" she muttered, stalking over to the kitchen where Max had been crying before dropping a few bags of food and a coffee-to-go holder on top of the counter.

"Dylan," Gazzy and Iggy responded in unison.

"Oh." Well, that explained everything. Mostly. She started to hand out everyone's drinks, before sitting down on the couch, leaning against Iggy. "What now?"

"How about some charades?"

"I'm _blind_, you twat!"

* * *

Brigid, once again, was serving a large cup of black coffee to Fang, a regular customer in her cafe.

"Here, again?" she asked, knowing his answer to her question every single time. Fang was the very personification of tall, dark and handsome. (Seriously, look at the guy. He has straight, black hair that girls would be jealous of and a face to die for.)

"No job," he would mutter as he drowned his cup. "Free time."

Sarcastically, Brigid remarked, "it's a wonder that you can spare money for coffee."

He shrugged, unaffected by her comment. "I don't have any talents other than playing the guitar. I manage to scrape by for a year. Somehow."

"Quite amazing, if you ask me," Brigid replied before turning her attention to other customers. After all, Fang wasn't the only person she had to dot on in her cafe. Numerous time, she tried to shoo him out, but those attempts met with fierce resistance. He was about as thick as a steel wall. That leech, only purchasing a coffee and using her WiFi connection half the day. She shook her head, tsking beneath her breath, and hurried on.

Just then, a rather grouchy customer approached the cafe and opened the door with more force than necessary. People stared, but eventually went on their way. It's not that uncommon to see someone who hadn't had their morning coffee, or in this case, afternoon. Some people just can't function, and many of the customers in the store sympathise.

Fang raised an eyebrow, sipping his cup as he continued to stare at the woman. He quickly turned away when he saw her catching his gaze. She seemed familiar, for some reason. Maybe he had seen her on the streets before? After all, it was hard to forget a beautiful girl.

"A cup of latte," she said with a pretentious tone.

Or it was hard to forget someone so rude. Fang snickered into his cup and returned his eyes to his laptop.

"What's so funny?" she asked, turning toward the male, clearly scowling in displeasure.

"Nothing," he said with a straight face on. "I just thought of something funny while looking at you."

She seemed to be more ticked off at his comment and strode over to him, right hand clenched into a fist. "Why I'll have you know that—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Fang 'accidentally' lets go of his coffee, resulting in the content spilling onto her jacket. The girl lets out a gasp, but nothing more than that. He had to hand it to her, though, about her reaction. Normally, a girl would shriek. Then again, she didn't seem like the shrieking type.

"That jacket costed more than your_ laptop_," she snarled.

"And you're attracting attention," he commented wryly. Her face flushed in humiliation, and she took her jacket off before leaving the store in a huff, sparing him a second glance that was full of tears. Ouch, now he felt bad for making her cry.

"...Wasn't that the vocalist of_ Flocking_?" someone behind him muttered. The rest of the store burst into wild speculations and pointed at Fang.

Well, shit.

* * *

**Notes:** Everyone's age is upped. I'm not going into specifics, but you can let your imagination wander. For those interested in everyone's position in the band, Max is the vocalist, Dylan was the former lead guitarist, Gasman is the bassist, Iggy has the keyboard, and Nudge is the drummer. Angel is the manager. Also, as you have noticed, I have an OC who mainly serve as a songwriter/composer for the band. Lastly, _review_. They're fuel for writing. Feel free to recommend anything for the plot as well, since not a lot is set in stones.


End file.
